Blossom
by OzGeek
Summary: Written for the NFA McGiva challenge  see my profile for the link. A little McGee and Ziva romance or friendship with Abby jealousy and a light touch of plot. Set Season 4. Nine chapters, one every day or two.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 - Sowing seeds**

"I will see you both tomorrow," Ziva announced shouldering her backpack and heading for the elevator. "Tonight I again explore your wonderful public transportation."

Tony and McGee exchanged puzzled glances. Their questions arrived simultaneously: "you're using public transport at this time of night?" from McGee and "you wrecked your car again?" from Tony.

"Yes to both." She turned to Tony, "and it was not my fault."

"Ziva," said McGee grabbing his coat and backpack, "let me drive you home."

"That is completely unnecessary, McGee. I am perfectly capable of utilizing public transportation."

McGee was already beside her. "Please," he said. "I'm leaving now anyway and we live in the same area. It would be insane…illogical for you to take the bus when I am driving right near where you live."

Ziva considered carefully. "Alright, I accept," she said finally. "Thank you for your kind offer, McGee."

* * *

Ziva sat in the passenger seat eyeing the steering wheel of McGee's Porsche with unbridled lust. "Do you think I could maybe.."

"No."

"But.."

"Still no."

"What is it about men and their cars?" she grumbled.

"They are an extension of our personality, a reflection of our manhood."

"So you are saying your personality is flashy and low or that your manhood is defined by a small stick that determines your every move?"

McGee turned his head slightly and raised an eyebrow. "Actually I'm saying you habitually write-off cars and I don't want mine to be next."

Ziva folded her arms in a huff and collapsed against the back of her seat. "It's never going to happen is it?"

"I'd have to be pretty sick," he admitted. He started the engine and wisely changed tack. "So what happened to your car?"

"A truck ran over it."

"What?"

"I parked in a loading zone and a truck backed up over it. The driver claimed he never saw it." She sat up straighter on her seat and started gesturing with her arms. "I mean it has a bright red bonnet! Who misses a bright red car with two black racing stripes down the front?"

"The driver of a huge truck," McGee informed her.

"Yes, well thank you for that information. It will be out of action for a week."

"So can I give you a ride to work in the morning?"

She knew it was reflexive politeness. "That will not be necessary. I will adjust my jogging route to accommodate my new situation."

"You can't seriously tell me you are going to jog to work from Silver City?"

"No, but I may go part way and take the bus from there."

"What about home at night?"

"McGee!"

He took his eyes off the traffic for a moment to look at her. "What?"

"You are not my mother."

"I know: it's just that…well a woman, after dark, alone. It's just not something I want to see happen if I can help it."

Ziva studied him in the beating light of the passing streetlamps. McGee: the last of the chivalrous men. Sometimes it annoyed her when men treated her as if she needed protection. Conversely, sometimes it bothered her when they treated her like one of the boys. It was up to them to guess her mood. McGee was unusual among men. He accepted and even admired her skills and yet he displayed a genuine concern for her everyday welfare.

"You may drive me home, if you wish," she consented.

* * *

"Thank you for the ride McGee," said Ziva as she heaved herself out of the low-slung car.

"Anytime."

Striding towards her door, she noticed he was still waiting at the curb. She turned and marched back to the car. McGee wound down the passenger window as she approached.

"Did I forget something?" she asked.

"Ah, no."

"Then why do you have me under surveillance?" she demanded.

"Ah, I was just waiting for you to go inside, to make sure you were safe. I thought you'd be insulted if I walked you to your door. Actually I thought you'd break a bone if I even suggested it."

Ziva smiled – McGee understood her better than she thought. "I will be fine McGee, I have travelled through most of Europe alone and still lived to tell the tale."

"I know." He made no signs that he was about to leave.

Ziva's sigh was only slightly exasperated. "See you tomorrow, McGee."

"Yep."

She turned her back on him and stalked back to her front door. The sound engine idle accompanying her on her journey. It was only after she opened the door, put on the front light and actually waved, that he finally drove off.

Ziva smiled slightly entered her lounge room. McGee had an inkling of her capabilities and yet he still viewed her as a woman. Not many people appreciated the dichotomy. He was really very sweet.

She chastised herself. What was she doing, thinking about McGee that way? He was like Robin to Tony's batman, Illya to Tony's Napoleon. She'd always loved Illya. She laughed to herself; Illya must be as old as Ducky by now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – Digging deep**

McGee was diligently packing pieces of severely dismembered computer into a cardboard box, when the sound of Ziva's voice caused him to pause. Contrary to expectation, she was openly hostile to the victim's wife who was clearly struggling to come to terms with a kidnapped husband and a ransacked lounge room in which almost every personal precious thing about her life had been violated, judged and thrown aside.

He debated whether he should enter the fray – conflict was never his strong point. Just as he licked his lips to say something, anything, the woman suddenly slapped Ziva hard on the face and stormed outside. He watched Ziva standing perfectly still, concentrating on controlled deep breathing.

"You OK?" he asked.

Ziva's head snapped to him. "She needed someone to focus all that anger on or we'd never get her to talk."

"You said all that to make her feel better?"

"I said all that so that someone else could get a statement out of her which would help with the case." Her voice was cold but red-rimmed eyes betrayed her underlying anguish.

He ached to do something useful. If Abby were there, Ziva would already be smothered in a hug but he wasn't Abby and initiating physical contact wasn't really in his doctrine.

Ziva smiled with false bravado. "You should take her statement now, while her mind is clear and her hatred is focused on me."

He nodded, gave her face one last worried scan and left.

* * *

"What did you get?" asked Gibbs as they entered the bullpen.

"She's clean," said Ziva expertly.

McGee looked at her hard. "How do you figure that?"

Ziva regarded him silently.

"Her gut, McGee," Gibbs approved.

McGee's eyes flitted between the two of them for a moment before he gave up: if Gibbs was satisfied then who was he to argue.

"Place was a mess, boss: stuff everywhere, computer smashed up. Looked like a kidnapping."

"Or he made a run for it and made it look like kidnapping," Ziva suggested. "The two untouched photos were of his children."

"He knows we're onto him," Gibbs agreed. "They must have already confirmed the drop off point. McGee, get that computer up to Abby."

"Already on its way, Boss."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"Right Boss." McGee scampered for the lab.

* * *

Entering the lab, Ziva found McGee and Abby peering into a computer carcass.

"Gibbs wanted to know if you have anything yet," she started as they both looked up. "We can't do anything until we know the time and place of the drop off."

"You don't think we know that?" said Abby. "Bad guys messed up computer real good."

McGee picked up the box. "I'll see if I can get the chip out," he said heading for the back room.

"Can I come too?" asked Ziva.

"Sure – only if you're grounded."

She frowned. "I'm not flighty by nature…"

"Grounded, earthed: connected to the planet in some way so that electricity will not cause the components to blow up."

"Oh."

"Come with me," McGee relented lugging the box.

Ziva perched herself on a chair next to McGee and watched as he aligned the box, light and magnifying glass. The concentration in his eyes spoke of a commanding expertise he rarely exhibited in the field.

"Here," he said, offering her a wristband, "be grounded."

She smiled weakly and attached the end to her wrist.

As McGee carefully positioned his arm and extended it into the box, Ziva leaned forward to discern exactly what he was extracting.

He stopped moving. "Ah, Ziva?"

"What?"

McGee extracted his hand and used it to lift the veil of black crinkly hair curtaining his vision. Peering at her under the sheet, he raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Oh sorry," she apologised.

He had caught her by surprise. Here in his own domain without Tony's ridicule, McGee was relaxed, even playful.

She pulled her hair into a ponytail at the back of her head, plaited the strands and twisted the resulting rope into a self-sustaining bun on top of her head.

McGee stared at her. "Wow, I didn't know you could do that so fast."

"A necessary skill, I should always wear it up."

"Oh no it looks better down." He passed the tip of his tongue nervously across his lips as the color began to rise up his cheeks.

"Perhaps I should compromise and wear it in two pigtails on top of my head," Ziva suggested.

McGee laughed spontaneously. "No that would just look silly…" he froze as he met Abby's lethal glare. "On Ziva," he explained desperately. "It looks great on some people."

Abby spun on her heels, her maligned ponytails whipping against her head and became obsessively involved with calibrating her mass spec.

McGee and Ziva exchanged guilty glances.

"Let's see if we can weasel this thing out," McGee suggested.

A short while later, McGee held the critical component in his hand. "And now we see what the bad guys were up to."

Ziva in tow, he headed back into the main laboratory and inserted the chip in the motherboard he and Abby had readied and slid the board into a waiting computer. The computer whirred into life.

As McGee and Ziva stood side by side watching the boot up sequence, Abby squeezed herself between them.

"Oh excuse me," said Ziva politely, backing out. "Am I in your way?" She ducked around behind them and positioned herself on the other side of McGee's.

Abby narrowed her eyes and sidled up closer to McGee, lifting her chin up and throwing out the challenge.

Ziva was nothing if not competitive. She took her cue and shuffled hard against McGee's body.

"Ah hello," McGee pleaded, his arms pinned to his sides. "I can't type here."

The two foes glared at each other and each gave up minimal ground.

"What is wrong with you two? I need to move my elbows," McGee looked down and was surprised to see a degree of malice between them he had not witnessed since Gibbs' accident. "Ah, is there something going on I should know about?"

"No," the answer was unanimous with both competitors retiring to their stools.

"O-kay…" said McGee slowly. Sometimes he hated begin kept in the dark. Other times, like now, the dark seemed reassuringly warm and cosy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"We've got the drop off point, boss," McGee announced as he and Ziva re-entered the bullpen.

"When?" asked Gibbs.

"Tonight – 2200," said Ziva succinctly.

Gibbs, Tony and Ziva gathered around the plasma screen as McGee plugged in a USB drive and brought up the display. The image showed a disused site sparsely populated with dilapidated buildings.

"Where?" Gibbs fired off.

"Building A201," said McGee.

"McGee, David: I want you here," Gibbs pointed to a crumpled wooden structure opposite their target, "from 1800."

* * *

"You got any pain killers, Ziva?"

It was almost 5pm and McGee was pretty sure he wasn't going to get through the night without painkillers.

Ziva's eyes flared. "What, McGee! Just because I am a woman you automatically assume I will be carrying medication? Perhaps I store it in my handbag?"

"No," said McGee carefully. "I already asked Tony and Gibbs isn't here, so I thought I'd ask you."

Ziva looked incensed. "So what you are saying is that I am the very last person you would consult on the subject of medication!"

McGee grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut. The dull thumping in his head cranked it up a notch. "I'll just go ask Abby."

"Wait!"

McGee tottered uncertainly. "What?"

"I have something which will extinguish all pain." She began hunting through her backpack.

McGee panicked: perhaps accepting a tablet from a trained assassin would kill more than just pain. "That's OK, I'm feeling much better."

"You lie, McGee."

He didn't really think he'd get away with it.

She stomped towards him, a strip of pills in her hand almost yelling her evidence. "You look flushed. I'd say you are coming down with something cold or flu related. Probably joint pains, headache and fever: yes?"

"Yes, just a little. I'll be fine."

"Do not lie to a spy!"

"McGee," Gibbs rounded the corner. "What did you say to piss off Officer David?"

"Ahh nothing, I.."

"It was my fault," Ziva cut in, her tone suddenly softening. "He felt me up the wrong way."

McGee squeezed his eyes shut again as the throbbing pain threatened to force his eyeballs from their sockets. "Rubbed," he said quietly, "rubbed you up the wrong way."

"Oh no, Probie," Tony laughed from his desk. "I think officer David is referring to your inexperience with the ladies."

Ziva suddenly became acutely aware of the pain she was causing McGee. "I'm sure McGee is quite conversant with the ways of pleasuring a woman," she defended.

McGee's eyes sprung open and he gave her a pleading 'stop helping me' look.

"McGee is very attractive to the female of the species and any woman would be pleased to have…"

Suddenly, she stopped talking and handed over the pills. "Sorry," she apologised under her breath lowering her eyes from him.

McGee was looking at her strangely.

"Take it Probie," Tony warned. "You two have got a stakeout tonight and you are not getting out of it."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later and McGee was relieved to find the pain haze was finally lifting. Which was just as well: the lift arrived bearing Abby in a buoyant mood.

"McGee," she announced pouncing on his desk. "You're taking me to dinner."

"Oh, er, I'd love to Abs but Ziva and I have got a stakeout tonight."

"All night?"

"Well, no I don't think so."

Ziva sprang from her desk. "In fact, McGee, we should start packing our equipment."

"What about after the stakeout?" Abby persisted.

"We'll probably just go straight to bed," said McGee wearily.

Abby's eyebrows shot up. She opened her mouth to continue her quest but Ziva already had McGee by the hand and was pulling him from his chair. "Sorry, Abby. We really have to get going."

McGee began to apologise to Abby before strange warmth erupted from deep within him banishing the lingering pain and numbing his tongue. Ziva had him by the hand. He could feel her tiny palm in his, her delicate fingers vainly struggling for enough purchase around his hand to pull him through the squad room.

Ziva never touched anyone – not by the hand. Not skin to skin contact. He had become blasé about Abby's touch years ago, she touched everyone; but Ziva? He swallowed dryly as Ziva dropped his hand to punch the elevator button. She seemed strangely motivated tonight. He was slightly disappointed when she didn't take his hand again but it was probably for the best: his heart was still thumping in his throat, his head still buzzing slightly. Any more excitement might prove fatal.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Ziva watched as McGee expertly assembled the intricate electrical equipment by feeble torchlight. She wanted to help but, hard as it was to admit, her 'help' would probably only complicate the procedure. Instead, she opened a folding canvas chair and settled into it to observe an artist at work. Her eyes ran down his body as he toiled. He was well built: not muscle hardened like Tony but supple and inviting.

A sudden shiver traversed her spine and she realised it was freezing in the old building.

McGee looked up as he completed his last connection. "Here," he offered, shrugging off his coat. "I've got a nice fever to keep me warm."

She was about to protest when she noted he was positively glowing in the dull ambient light. "Will you be alright?"

He smiled stoically. "Yeah."

Strength: Ziva admired that in a man, though she was a little concerned his bravado was inappropriate in this instance.

McGee opened the second folding chair and placed it beside hers. "That's it," he sighed, easing himself carefully into the seat. The fever had stiffened his muscles but he was clearly not going to admit it.

"And now?" she prompted the inevitable.

"We wait," he confirmed.

* * *

_Stakeouts: long endless hours fuelled by cheap food and even cheaper coffee_.

'_And cheap chairs'_ Ziva added to herself, shifting again to relieve the unbearable awkwardness of her seating position. McGee should put that in his book. She had endured excruciating torture delivered by world experts in the field but NCIS surveillance chairs had to be experienced to be believed.

Ziva's heightened senses explore the environment: the ancient wooden structure, their sanctuary for the duration of the stakeout, smelt like it had established its own eco-system and it creaked ominously at every gust of wind. Before her, equipment humming away on the single fold-out table provided the only source of light.

_But tonight, Mossad Officer Lisa didn't seem to mind because she was getting to spend it with_

Although Ziva could hear McGee's regular breathing very distinctly, he had not spoken to her in at least an hour. She worried how bad he must be feeling. Relief pulsed through her as she felt a nudge on her shoulder. The joy was short-lived however, for as she turned to McGee expectantly, she was surprised to see the nudge had come from his head: he was sound asleep on her shoulder. A hand planted on his forehead confirmed her suspicions: he was sweaty and hot: very hot. Maybe he would recuperate after some sleep.

The pills she gave him were clearly wearing off. She marvelled at how trusting he was to take random pills from a trained assassin. Most people would have suspected they were hallucinogens. Seriously perverted people might have assumed they were RUFIES – but not McGee. He had an innate sense of trust which was a good personal quality, though perhaps incompatible with spy mentality.

Ziva smiled as McGee snuggled against her shoulder and breathed a contented sigh. He looked younger than she remembered. Somehow she had him in her head as the same age as Tony but looking at him now, she realised he was considerably younger: almost the same age as herself.

She wondered how McGee would react if he were aware of his position: sprawled out in a chair, heavy head slowly sinking down the front of her body, so peaceful, almost as if he belong there, lying on her...

She picked up the binoculars and scanned the area once more in pursuit of some action.

* * *

She wasn't sure at first whether her mind was desperately playing with shadows to alleviate the boredom if something was finally going to happen. A split second later, she knew her instincts were correct.

She looked down to where McGee's head was sunk deep into her collar bone. He was gently snoring, dead to the world. The heat from his body throbbed against her side. It pained her to wake him.

"McGee," she whispered urgently.

He stirred and muttered something incomprehensible.

She wondered why she was whispering given her only aim was to wake him.

"McGee," she tried more forcefully.

"What?" McGee jerked awake suddenly then groaned as the pain reasserted itself. Groggily, he slid his head up her body until his chin perched on her shoulder. "Ziva?" he squinted, puzzled.

"They are here."

"Who?"

"Hopefully our missing Naval officer and his accomplices."

McGee frowned lazily as he tried to make sense of everything. Suddenly, it all came rushing back and he sat up straighter on the chair. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to... they're here? Now?"

"Yes." Ziva hauled herself out of her chair and started typing on the computer.

"Oh!" McGee stood up urgently, lurched a little to one side, then wobbled unsteadily to the computers.

The entire exchange was over in ten minutes but in that short time they were able to collect images of all parties present, car licence plates and items exchanged.

As the cars roared off into the night, McGee collapsed into a chair with a groan and threw his head back. "I can't believe we actually got all that."

Ziva, stabbing on her cell to notify Gibbs, looked at him slumped in the chair: he looked appalling.

"Drink," she offered her water bottle. "You are dehydrated and take these," she dug out some more pills from her pocket. "You need to keep that fever down."

McGee accepted without a word.

* * *

It was late when they reached the car park at headquarters. McGee had hardly spoken since they left the stake out and Ziva was more that a little alarmed by his staggering gait as they headed towards his car. When they reached the Porsche, he took a deep, slightly moaning breath, dug out his keys and held them aloft before her eyes.

"Yes!" Ziva snatched the keys from his grasp and tossed them in the air victoriously.

"Just don't break it," he slurred heading for the passenger side.

Snuggling into the luxurious driver's seat, Ziva looked across to McGee. He was already almost asleep against the side of the car, sweat sheen glistening in the interior lighting.

"I need to get you into bed," she said absently.

McGee opened one eye and used it to stare at her. She reviewed the statement in light of his response. "That came out wrong," she surmised.

"Ya think?" he mumbled, his eye sliding shut again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Cold shivers chased each other around his body pausing only to dance across his chest where the damp sheet clung. He whimpered as he realised the only path to warmth was through body movement. His fingers crept along the bed, feeling their way across the thin sheet, seeking out any potential source of warmth. Every movement was agony, his skin exquisitely sensitive to the rough material under his fingertips. He could almost feel the individual photons as they pounded his eyelids.

Then a miracle – something warm floated gently to land on top of him. Firm hands smoothed the surface to cocoon him. He nuzzled at the fingers tickling under his chin as they adjusted the placement near his neck.

"Shhhh," said a soft voice in his ear.

His eye's cracked open and the photons hit his optical nerves full force. It was early morning and there was someone standing in his bedroom. "Ziva?" he rasped.

"Good morning," Ziva smiled.

"Ahh hi," he fumbled.

"You were quite unwell last night and I wanted to ensure your condition did not deteriorate during the night."

"You didn't have to do that."

"No I did not," she agreed quietly. "But your fever was unresponsive to the medication and you had become delirious. There was no sign of rash so I ruled out anything too life threatening."

McGee realised how little he was wearing and his mouth became inexplicable dry. He rasped his tongue over his lips in a futile attempt to rectify the situation. "You ah..checked for rashes?"

"Of course," she confirmed. "Do you think I have not seen a male body before? Why even at work you have removed your shirt twice in my presence."

"But that was different."

"Why?

"Because I was conscious."

Ziva smiled. "You were in no condition to remove anything last night. Do not worry; your manhood is still intact."

McGee said nothing. He wouldn't have minded if his manhood had been a little tattered, perhaps even savaged...

Ziva stepped back from the bed and fell more into focus. She was wearing one of his blue shirts: sleeves rolled loosely about her wrists, shapely legs gliding around under the lower edge. Behind her, he saw a blanket casually draped across the armchair in his bedroom; that must have been her bed for the night. Squinting, he noticed she had only fastened the lower buttons of his shirt leaving a tantalising view of her cleavage. He hoped she couldn't see under the covers as his body reacted to the sight: he was sick, not dead.

Ziva started some morning exercises and McGee stared stunned watching her lithe body contort into an array of enticing positions. Endless possibilities presented themselves. He moved his head slightly to get a better angle.

Suddenly she was looking at him and he started guiltily.

"I congratulate you on your preparedness: I found a brand new toothbrush still in its package in your bathroom drawer. This is your boy scout training?"

"No, a lesson learned from a painful experience."

"Ah."

"Have you ever considered throwing a typewriter at someone?" He was getting tired; he could feel his blinks becoming longer.

"What?"

"Never mind." He struggled against leaden eyelids as they ached to close again.

"You will take the day off," she said firmly. "I have left a bottle of water on your bedside table, you need to rehydrate."

"I couldn't do that, Gibbs would kill me," his voice was growing husky.

"You need time to recuperate," she lectured. "I dare you to lift a single part of your body."

Eyes closed, McGee swallowed dryly again. Clearly she couldn't see under the covers.

"See!" she said victoriously.

"I will have a shower, drive your car to work and relay the information regarding your health. Tonight I will come and check on you."

McGee frowned and he prised his eyes open again. He couldn't remember driving the car home last night. In fact he couldn't remember much past the actual surveillance.

She laughed at his expression. "Your car fine – it has already survived my driving once. No part of your manhood was compromised last night."

McGee watched lazily under hooded lids as Ziva floated mesmerizingly towards the bathroom in almost nothing. It was only when she shut the adjoining door that his consciousness finally collapsed around him and he explored some interesting dreams.

* * *

Abby looked up expectantly as McGee's car drove into a parking spot: it was time to remind him of her rightful place in the pecking order. She sidled up to the driver's side and fixed her happiest smile to her face. The smiled drooped as the occupant emerged.

"Ziva?"

"Good morning Abby."

Abby bent down to scan the car's interior. "Did you steal McGee's car?"

Ziva laughed. "No, I spent the night at his place; he was too exhausted to get out of bed this morning."

Abby's jaw dropped.

Ziva smiled mischievously to herself as she closed the car door firmly and headed for the door before Abby had time to regain her composure.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 - stand off**

Ziva could hear the reassuring sound of typing as she stood outside McGee's door. At least he was up and feeling better. She had taken the time to go home first and change into something a little more….distracting. Hopefully the low neckline, short skirt and high heels would leave an impression. Shifting the bag of groceries in her arms she steeled herself and knocked three times on the hard wooden door.

The typing ceased and a few seconds later she heard McGee's voice. "Ziva?"

Why was there a question? He should be pleased to see her. Maybe Abby had got there first.

"Yes, I came to see how you were."

"Oh good", he opened the door for her. "You're too short for the spy hole. You looked like a mound of hair. I thought Cousin It was coming to visit."

"Who?"

"Never mind. You didn't have to come over, you could have just called."

He must have slept late. Dressed in casual yet crisp clothing he was freshly washed, his skin smoothly shaven, his hair downy soft. He smelt invitingly...her mind suddenly registered that a response was required of her.

"I could not call, I disabled all of your communication devices," she said lightly stalking by him and depositing her bag on the kitchen bench.

He froze at the door, a look of concern on his face. "Why?"

"Because I didn't want anyone disturbing you when you clearly needed the rest," she said, congratulating herself on avoiding any reference to Abby.

He picked up his cell phone from the kitchen bench. "Twelve missed calls and five SMS' from Abby."

A tradition Yiddish curse ran through Ziva's mind: did that woman never give up?

"I'll just give her a call."

"No," said Ziva forcefully. Her mind whirred in the two seconds grace which defined the difference between a plausible excuse and an ulterior motive. "She has bowling tonight – with the nuns. Besides, I told her all about it this morning."

"Oh, OK. I'll call her later."

Ziva allowed her self a small sigh of relief as disaster was averted. "I thought you might like to be updated on the case," she neatly changed the subject. "I also brought you some food."

McGee said nothing; his eyes were playing over her legs and bust line.

"Thank you," he said distractedly.

Ziva smiled smugly and turned her back on him so he could appreciate just how short the skirt was. "Relax and I will make us some dinner."

"I'm fine really, I can do it," he protested vaguely. She could almost feel his gaze.

She spun back to face him. "You can help."

* * *

"The photographs have provided us with enough evidence to link the Naval officer to the smuggling," Ziva began as they sat down to dinner on two stools drawn up to McGee's kitchen bench. "Abby was able to match the other suspects to a list of known drug smugglers. The FBI helped us with their locations but our actual man is still on the loose."

"Wasn't someone was supposed to follow him after the exchange," McGee queried.

"He was lost. We have another BOLO out but he has to offload the shipment somewhere and that limits his options. Abby thinks he might have a list of buyers somewhere on his hard drive."

McGee leapt to his feet. "I should go help her."

"She's gone bowling and also..."

"What?"

"You have just spilled sauce all over your pants."

McGee grimaced as he looked down. "I'll be right back."

As McGee obsessively scrubbed his pants in the bathroom, Ziva wondered aimlessly around his tiny lounge room. Reaching his writing desk, she casually picked up McGee's free writing folder and started flicking through the pages. Suddenly the words grasped her and she smiled victoriously to herself. Goth forensic scientist Amy Sutton could sign to her deaf mother 'til the friction ignited her fingertips: someone else had caught the interest of Special Agent McGregor – Mossad officer Lisa.

A sudden knock at the door caused her to plant the folder on the desk a little more forcefully than intended.

"I'll get it," she called.

The door opened to reveal Abby resplendent in her fuchsia pink frilly bowling dress. She did not look pleased.

"Ziva," she said curtly.

"Hello, Abby."

"Who was it?" asked McGee rounding the corner from his bedroom while putting the finishing touches to his belt and tucking his shirt further into his new pants.

Abby looked even less pleased.

"Oh hey Abby, how was bowling?" asked McGee innocently.

"Fine," she snapped.

McGee shot Ziva a questioning glance and she replied with a 'don't ask me' shrug.

"We were just going to have dinner," McGee began carefully. "Want some? Ziva's a great cook."

Abby forced a tight smile across her lips. "That would be great." She dragged McGee's computer chair around to the other side of the kitchen bench and took up her place eye to eye with Ziva perched opposite on a stool.

* * *

McGee had the distinct feeling he was eating his dinner in a parallel universe to his two companions. The conversation was in English but, involving as it did a large degree of body language and eye positions; he really felt they were speaking a foreign tongue. Besides, neither of them was talking to him – at him or about him perhaps, but neither actually sought his input.

Finishing off his dinner, he rested his cheek on the stalk of his hand watching the conversation volley as a disinterested spectator.

* * *

"McGee!" Abby's voice sounded forceful yet still distant.

Something had happened: his fist had ground its way into his cheekbone. His body felt hot and heavy and his eyes had sealed.

"Hmmm," he murmured.

"I think it's time for bed," Ziva's voice was smooth and silky.

His eyelids peeled open as he felt four sets of hands heave him from his chair. He pulled his head up from where it drooped and met Abby's face.

"Bedtime, McGee," she said.

Before he knew it they had him on the bed. Panic overtook him as he felt their hands start on his clothing, jockeying for prime position on his pants.

"I'll do it," he croaked urgently.

They stopped and retreated, though if he squinted hard he could still see them hovering expectantly.

"A little privacy?"

"Oh." They backed out of the room.

Once he was sure they were out of range, McGee wriggled out of his pants, slid them onto the floor and, with an exhausted heave, grabbed one side of the covers and rolled them on top of himself. That would have to do.

Out in the other room he could hear the two women. They were doing dishes, talking and laughing. It sounded normal again. He wondered lightly what had happened that night before his eyes. Maybe he'd find out one day but probably not.


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry it's a bit late, daughter had an ear infection.

**Chapter 7**

Abby was back to her old self the next day in the lab, a fact that only served to convince McGee that something hinky was going on.

Ziva appeared at the lab door – and stayed there, not daring to enter the room. "Can we borrow McGee for a while?" she asked politely.

"Sure," Abby smiled magnanimously. "He's all yours."

McGee started for the door noting that Abby did not accompany him nor Ziva did move to meet him. He quickened his pace across the no man's land between the two of them, his ears primed for the first sniper shot, scampering the last couple of steps just in case. Ziva gave Abby an exaggerated bow which Abby acknowledged with a gracious nod of her head.

McGee frowned. They were being nice to each other: too nice. Ominous music began to play in his head.

"Coming?" called Ziva as she pressed the elevator button.

McGee could feel Ziva's close to his in the confined space and somehow he found it harder to breath. She seemed more...proactive today, as had Abby. The ominous music increased its volume.

As the elevator reached the bullpen, Tony and Gibbs crowded in with them.

"Let's go," said Gibbs.

"Where?" McGee ventured.

"Running down the FBI list of probable dealers," said Gibbs emotionlessly as the elevator opened at the car park.

"Race you for shotgun," Tony challenged Ziva.

Ziva took two energetic steps to motivate Tony then fell into step with McGee. Once in the backseat, Ziva smiled at him again. His heart thumped dangerously hard against his ribs but he wasn't sure whether it was attraction or fear.

"You ah, get home OK last night," he tried conversationally.

"Yes, Abby gave me a lift."

"Really?" He was genuinely surprised.

"Yes we had an enlightening conversation after dinner."

He swallowed hard. "You did?"

"Oh yes." She smiled smugly.

McGee frowned: this could be very good or very bad.

* * *

Their first two ports of call yielded nothing but cagey, suspicious answers and dodgy men in dingy offices. As they pulled up outside the third address however, they caught sight of a familiar person entering the building.

"That's him," said Ziva excitedly.

McGee nodded. "Boss..."

"I heard," said Gibbs, carefully easing his door open. "Watch your six, everyone – they might be expecting us."

The two men inside the building, however, were clearly not expecting them and the entire arrest was over in moments. Tony and Gibbs handcuffed their prey while McGee and Ziva went about photographing and creating an inventory of the evidence.

"Ziva David," one of the men spat as Tony tightened his handcuffs.

Ziva stiffen.

"I will make sure news of this travels," he threatened in a guttural voice.

"Get him out of here, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled, dragging the other perpetrator out of the building.

For a moment, there was nothing: just McGee and Ziva standing side by side watching the door shut behind the others.

"You OK?" McGee asked.

"Yes," she lied.

Suddenly McGee knew exactly what to do: he reached her with two strides and wrapped his arms around her. There felt her trembling, her face buried in his chest. He bent down to look at her and she turned her face up to meet him.

"I'm fine," she said quietly, lowering her face again.

McGee considered her statement. Certainly on the outside she was a picture of perfect composure but underneath he could feel the facade crumbling.

They stood in silence while Ziva calmed herself. Then she looked up at McGee with frightened eyes. "May I stay at your place tonight?"

"Of course."

"Thank you," she broke contact, reassembled her professional appearance and headed for the door.

* * *

The moment the final car door closed, Gibbs voice rang out clear and steady: "who was he?"

"A terrorist," Ziva replied. "No particular allegiances but known to my family – and my enemies."

"You're not staying at your house tonight." It was a simple statement of fact.

"It is already arranged."

McGee saw Gibbs' steely blue sizing him up in the rear vision mirror. The gut-o-meter was on the mark.

"Good," Gibbs approved.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 - La La Land**

It was nearly midnight when they finally reached McGee's apartment. Most of the night had been absorbed by moves and countermoves calculated to distract any would-be assassins from Ziva's true whereabouts. Tony and Gibbs had already reported several suspects while setting up set up surveillance cameras overlooking Ziva's home.

McGee had never seen Ziva so jumpy. She insisted on raising her gun as they entered his apartment and systematically searched the rooms shouting 'clear' on each occasion. He hung up his coat, flicked on the kitchen light, sat on a stool and waited for her to get it out of her system. Finally she rounded the corner from the bedroom, tucking her gun into her holster as she went.

"Finished?" he asked.

"What, you've never had an intruder in your apartment trying to kill someone you are supposed to be protecting?" she pointed out.

"Well, that was different?"

"Why, because he was a guy who cleaned crime scenes for a living and not a professional killer?"

"Well, yes, no...I sort of get your point."

She caught his eye and smiled apologetically. "You do not know what it is like back home," she explained.

"I think I know what's going on in the Middle East," McGee assured her.

"We have a saying," she smiled grimly. "Anyone who thinks they understand what's going on really doesn't understand the situation."

McGee let a hollow laugh escape but her point was well taken: it was a world with which he had no experience and he trusted her judgement completely.

"You can have the bed," he offered making a beeline for his cupboard. "I'll take the sleeping bag."

"No!" Her voice was clear and urgent.

He paused mid-stride, eyebrows raised questioningly.

She calmed a little. "Just – I need you with me. Close, in case something happens."

"I'll take the armchair in the bedroom then."

"Closer."

He studied her face; there was a panic born of uncertainty that he had never seen before. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

He shrugged. "OK, it's your reputation."

* * *

McGee and Ziva lay flat on their backs, side by side, in complete darkness, their ears straining at every sound.

McGee was officiating in an internal debate. He was alone in bed with a beautiful woman who was providing no end of temptation. Unwanted advances could prove fatal and there was a danger she would think he was taking advantage of her while she was vulnerable: vulnerable in the kind of way that still implied they could kill you in the blink of an eye.

If she wanted him to make advances and he held off, then the scenario got far worse. Given his current creeping exhaustion, there was a very real risk he would fall asleep before anything happened and then his chance would be gone. He could actually live with that. What he could not allow was to be just awake enough to start the deed and then too tired to finish. He would never hear then end of it from Ziva, Tony or anyone else the message would flood to.

He chastised himself: put failure into your head and you risk a serious dose of self-fulfilment. Better to start off with something light and see where the mood takes them – and quickly, the world was starting to get a little hazy.

"Aren't you worried Abby might turn up unexpectedly again?" he asked vaguely, suppressing a yawn.

"Oh no we have an agreement..."

"Excuse me?" He must be more tired than he thought: that made no sense at all.

Ziva spoke slowly, choosing her words very carefully. "Abby had some territorial issues which have been resolved to our mutual satisfaction."

He dropped out of the conversation for a moment as sleep claimed him but then he rallied back into reality. "Come again?"

He was clearly befuddled –he toyed with the idea that perhaps this was a dream and he was already asleep.

"She wants full access to you in her lab and some weekend visitations."

"What!" The verdict was in: this was definitely a dream. His consciousness started to drop below the line again and he fought against deep breaths as his body tried to sleep. "You two can't just arrange my life like that," he protested with what little force he could muster.

"Well if we don't who will?" Ziva began. "What makes you think you run the show? We have arranged a suitable schedule: that is all that is important."

"No it's not, don't I get a say?" This was just getting too confusing, he needed sleep.

"Do you have any other woman you want to be seeing right now?"

"Why do you want to include them in the time-share?"

"Touche."

McGee felt the world closing in on him again but there was something wrong: Ziva was panting, talking so fast her accent had coagulated. She was embarrassed about something. He dozed lightly, replaying the conversation over in his mind until he found the spot and hit pause. "You like me?"

"What!" she snapped. "Is that such a surprise?"

"Well, yes," he mumbled dreamily. "You're...you're like this super spy: highly intelligent, superbly fit, beautiful and I'm just an ordinary.."

"You think I am attractive?" she cut in.

"Mmmm," he had the sensation of falling down, down, down.

"You need sleep; you have not yet fully recovered. We will discuss this later."

He felt her snuggled up against his side and rest her head on his shoulder. In reply, he nuzzled her hair.

"Night Ziva," he slurred as the darkness claimed him.

"Good night, McGee."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

McGee awoke slowly the next morning. The effects of his recent malaise were still evident but grandly offset by some magnificent dreams. He turned his head lazily and panic hit him – Ziva was gone.

"Ziva!" He sat bolt upright in bed.

"Yes?" Ziva hung enticingly out the bathroom door, tendrils of wet hair caressing her damp body, a towel wrapped tightly around her torso.

He stared transfixed; making a mental note to invest in some narrower bath towels. Better still: just let the guests make do with the hand towel. The fact that said towel stayed stubbornly fixed in place was proof that the word 'telekinesis' would never appear on his resume.

"McGee?"

He managed to wrench his eyes to her face. "Ahhh...you weren't here – I just panicked for a moment."

"I couldn't sleep," she admitted. "You on the other hand, slept like a baby."

His mind whirred – if by 'slept like a baby' she meant waking every few hours to crave a breast then: yes, perhaps she was right. "I think I'm still recovering," he managed. "When I woke up and you weren't here ..."

"That is alright, you were right to worry."

She opened the door fully, walked slowly over to him and knelt on the side of his bed with her legs folded up beneath her. The towel did not slip an inch; McGee wondered if she'd super glued it in place.

"Ziva," he began uncertainly, "last night...did I dream all that?"

"No," she assured him with a laugh.

He smiled mischievously. "Then you really are _that_ flexible?"

That earned him a slap on the chest. "_That_ you did dream," Ziva retorted.

"But you...and Abby?" He tried again. "It's just...well I'm flattered and all but I have trouble keeping up with a day and a night job without adding two women..."

"I may have overstated the case," Ziva cut in. "Abby wants full access to all men in her lab – you, Tony, Gibbs, even Ducky. It really is very territorial to her. Do you think you have room for just one woman in your life?"

He grinned. "I think I could squeeze in you ... ahh you in."

She gave him another gentle slap and climbed off the bed. Standing before him with a sly smile, she gently tugged at one corner of the towel causing it to unpeeled slowly clockwise around her. His body went into overdrive as he watched the picture unfold before his eyes and it was all he could do to not leap out of bed and flatten her on the floor.

"When the danger has passed," she began picking up her clothes, "we must do this again."

"Oh yes, we must," he agreed breathlessly.

"Oh, and I think I have used up all the hot water," she apologised.

"Probably just as well."

She smiled playfully then her face fell into a serious mode. "We have a bad guy to catch," she reminded him.

"Yep," he said regretfully, rolling out of bed.

"But then..."

His heart danced hopefully.

"...we shall continue where we left off."

* * *

"Well at least you're not kneeling this time," Tony noted as he arrived in the bullpen.

McGee raised an eyebrow but did not respond – he was a man on a mission and if that mission required him to catch a bad guy, then so be it.

"Behave yourself last night, Probie?" Tony prodded again.

"McGee was a perfect gentleman," Ziva replied.

"Only because he wouldn't know what to do if.."

"Oh he knows," said Ziva smugly, sitting back in her chair with her hands folded behind her head.

Tony glanced at McGee and saw he was smiling sweetly at Ziva. His head flicked back just in time to catch Ziva's returning smile.

"Oh, no," Tony started in a wavering voice. "Rule 12 is there for a reason."

"It's more like a guideline," Ziva mused.

"No it's ...Boss!" Tony turned to Gibbs as he rounded the corner. "Tell them about rule number 12."

Gibbs whacked Tony hard on the head. "We got a lead," he said gruffly.

The three younger agents grabbed their backpacks, dug out guns, affixed badges and headed for the elevator; Ziva and McGee jockeying for position at the lead.

"Oy!" Gibbs called from the center of the bullpen where he was still rooted to the spot.

They turned as one.

"MTAC," he said incredulously.

"Oh," they chorused retracing their steps, undoing all their good work and scurrying off up the stair after Gibbs.

An exhausted Director Jenny Shepard met them outside the door. "Much of this is need-to-know," she said. "If I don't tell you, don't ask."

The agents nodded and she opened the door.

"How long you been here Jen?" there was a note of concern in Gibbs' voice as he drew level with her.

"All night."

"You look like hell."

"Jethro," she smiled tightly, "you always know just what to say."

"You look like a damn fine field agent," he muttered entering the room.

Director Shepard smiled wearily and followed him in.

The agents sat four abreast in the front row staring at the enormous screen. Before them, a scene was playing out.

"These are the men who had your apartment under surveillance, Ziva," the Director said matter-of-factly.

McGee felt Ziva's hand curl slowly around his wrist.

"We traced them back to this sleeper cell."

Ziva's fingers dug into McGee as she recognised other members of the group. "But that's..."

"..need to know," Jenny finished her sentence pointedly.

"Unfortunately," the Director continued, "there was some unrest within the faction."

Gunshots and shouting rang out on the screen and McGee felt Ziva's grasp threaten to snap his wrist. He brought his other hand over and massaged her grasping hand until it relaxed slightly.

"There were no survivors," Jenny concluded, switching off the video.

McGee was agitated. "But who fired that first shot? That wasn't from inside the group, someone outside must have..."

The Director stared at him for a moment before exchanging amused expressions with Ziva.

"Oh," said McGee finally. "Then that means..."

"...that we can continue where we left off," Ziva smiled.

--END--


End file.
